Never go back
by Intala2
Summary: While working a case Olivia Benson meets a young woman with a lot of secrets. This is her story as she takes her first steps towards healing.
1. Hiding

**My first story in the SVU universe.**

As I make my way to my office I try to block out the voices of my coworkers. News about the attack on one of the secretaries last night as she was walking home spread like wildfire and seems to be all everybody can talk about. Comments range from outrage to how we can help to what was she doing walking the streets alone after dark. I almost turned to speak my mind when I heard that last one, but I can't. Can't let anyone know how I feel, for it hits too close to home. Can't let anyone know I know.

It's not surprising detectives come to the office for background information. I take a deep breath before entering the conference room where one of them waits to talk to me. A dark haired female introduces herself as sergeant Benson and I give her my name. I didn't know Alisha that well but give her any information I can think of, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible.

It's her eyes that capture mine. When brown meets grey I feel shocked at their penetrating stare. Fear grabs me as she seems to look right through me and I can't help but break the contact, looking down at the table we're seated at. As we talk I look anywhere but into those eyes, thoughts racing. Can't let her look into my eyes. She'll see, she'll know. She seems to try to recapture my eyes and my avoidance must be interpreted as nervousness. Not a good way to appear when talking to the police but I can't help it.

Eventually she seems satisfied with the information on the case. As I'm allowed to return to work it takes all my strength and will power to not run from the room. The door closes as I start to walk down the hall. A sharp turn right allows me to escape into the ladies room and it's not untill the door of the stall is locked that I realize I've been holding my breath. Letting go of it in a rush the last words of sergeant Benson reverbarate in my mind. She'll contact me again. Please let me get through that without breaking. But for now it's done. As soon as the shaking goes down I can go back to work and pretend to be fine.

As the next three days pass without incident I almost convince myself it's over and I don't have to worry about it anymore. Work goes on as usual and even the water cooler gossip has moved on from Alisha's case to the latest stunt of the mayor and his mistress. All the greater is the shock of seeing sergeant Benson walk up to me as I'm having lunch in the park next to our office. Looking around for anyone else she might be here for it soon becomes clear it's me she's come to talk to. Just take deep breaths, stay calm. She's not here for you.

She asks for permission to join me and it takes a lot of me not to move away from her. Sensing my discomfort she sits down leaving plenty of room between us. As we go over my statement and additional questions I slowly relax. Nothing to worry about, just keep calm and you'll be fine. It's then that I make the mistake of looking into her eyes again as she asks me why I'm so nervous. No, I don't want this but I can't look away this time. She has me trapped, transmitting compassion and understanding by just looking at me. It's like her eyes tell me it's ok, I can tell her but I can't. All I can do is stare back. She seems to understand though and leaves me alone. It's not untill she's disappeared from sight that I see she left her card on the bench. I don't know why I pick it up. I don't want it. I don't want anything to do with her. I don't want her or anyone to know. It disappears into my pocket anyway.


	2. Doubt

**Thank you, Brightsparx. There's more to come, I promise.**

Once more I pull the card from my coat pocket and with trembling hands I type the numbers on my cell phone. I've deleted them more times than I can remember in the past few days. What am I doing? What am I going to say? But a part of me needs to get this off my chest. I need to tell my story and I need someone to listen. Will she listen? I don't want to waste her time, as it's too late to make a case. But I can see those eyes reaching out to me everywhere I go.

She picks up and her businesslike 'Benson' hardly matches with the eyes that I've thought about so much. My throat closes in shock and no words come out. I'm such an idiot, having imagined a much more warm welcome. How could she have known it would be me? It's not like she has my phone number and there must be at least a dozen cases she and her squad are working on. There is no way I'm the only one trying to get her attention and I contemplate hanging up. I must have made a sound though, as a much more gentle 'hello?' follows her greeting.

I stammer out my name in the hope she remembers me. Terror fills my mind at the thought of having to explain over the phone. Please, please remember who I am. Please understand how much it took to even call.

 _Sophia, what can I do for you?_

Relief is so great I have to sit down. She remembers. But now comes the hard part.

 _I was wondering... is there a way... I mean... can we... can we maybe... like,... talk?_

My heart is pounding as I stammer my question and it doesn't let up when she agrees and suggests to meet in person. I am relieved she wants to meet but also terrified. The door is open and I'm on the threshold, afraid to go through it. What if she doesn't believe me? Or if she thinks I'm a waste of her time? And that doesn't even come close to the fear I feel about disclosing what I've buried inside for so long.

We agree to meet at the library where I reserve a small study room. I don't want to meet in my apartment, keeping it as a safe haven away from all the ugliness of my past. As if I could ever escape it. I'm happy to have found some neutral ground though, as I wouldn't feel comfortable to come to the precinct.

I had expected a table and some chairs, so the comfortable couch under the window surprises me. A small side table holds some magazines and one wall is completely covered in books. It's been a long time since I studied here and the current layout is much more inviting.

My hands are freezing as I pace the room, trying some breathing exercises to calm down. In through the nose, hold, out through the mouth. Again, and again untill my heart rate starts to go down. Right when I've got some control over my nerves there's a knock at the door and I know there's no going back now. Heart racing once more I walk to the door and open it with shaking hands.


	3. Beginnings

**Thank you Brightsparx, I'm looking forward to your reviews. Hope you keep liking the story as it's about to become a lot darker.**

The first thing she does is hand me a cup of tea. I smell chamomile as the heats warms my freezing fngers and I sit down in a corner of the couch, pulling my legs up and curling into myself. The questions I expected don't come as we both sip from our cups. She doesn't sit down and doesn't come near me. I've had this conversation in my head a hundred times and now all the words desert me. She needs to know upfront though this is not about the case. Please, don't let me down, please, please don't leave now I've finally worked up the courage to talk to you.

 _You know this is not about Alisha's case, right?_

She only nods en gives me a small smile. And still the questions I expected don't come. She doesn't say a word and just looks at me. In the end her strategy works. Before I know it I start talking.

 _I don't really know how to start. Or where to start. I never told anyone besides my therapist. It's been so long ago but I just can't seem to move on. It's never over somehow. Not even my mom believed me. For a long time even I didn't believe me. And it's not like I can do anything about it anymore. Statute of limitations ran out for me._

I'm rambling on and on until she removes her coat and walks over. Keeping her eyes on me she sits down on the other end of the couch. It's those eyes again that seem to reach into me and stills my nerves and my mouth. And then she asks me:

 _What happened?_

It's exactly those words that get to me. No questioning me, no doubt, no are you sure, or why, or why now. She believes me and I feel tears fill my eyes. As they roll down my face there's only one thing I can say:-

 _Uncle Mathew happened. He wasn't even family. We called all the adults uncle and aunt when we were kids. Out of respect._

 _But he didn't deserve your respect, did he?_

 _No, no he didn't._

I rub my arms in an attempt to stay in the moment and not be pulled back into the past.

 _I was just a child. How could he do that to a child?_

I know there's no answer and she doesn't try to provide one.

 _What did he do?_

 _He... he..._

I find myself choking on the words. Anyone can say: sexual abuse. But that does not begin to explain what it really means. It doesn't say how it destroys your sense of self, crushes your belief in others, annihilates your hopes and dreams and damages you beyond repair. How it isolates you from anyone who could be a friend, leaving you desperately alone.

Again she stays silent, giving me space to work through this at my own pace.

 _I was so little. Only 4 or 5, I'm not sure, just that I was in kindergarten. My older brother was bullied in school. And my younger brother was just a baby. He was adopted and came to us extremely malnourished. My parents did the best they could, but I didn't get much atttention at home. I felt invisible and uncle Mathew saw me. He gave me attention. Made me feel special. I never felt that before. And I craved it so, so very much._

My throat is closing as tears run down my face. I can't say another word as sobs wrack my body. She reaches over and I shrink further into the corner of the couch. It's only then I see she's not moving closer but only holding out tissue. Embarrassed of my reaction I take it, crumpling it in my hand. With her silent support I find the strength to go on.

 _It started out really innocent. Giving me candy. Telling me I was really smart, much smarter than other children my age. I felt so important when I was with him. And he hugged me, cuddled with me. I missed that at home and it made me feel so safe and protected. I don't even know when it started to change. When the touching became more deliberate. When lines were being crossed._

 _I just know I liked it when he touched me. And then he taught me how to touch myself. He showed me what would feel good. And it did. It felt so good and it was our secret and I wouldn't tell anyone. Because he only taught me and no one else and it made me even more special._

I can't look at her anymore, hiding my face in my hands. I never admitted that to anyone before and I feel ashamed. But now I've started to tell my tale I find it near impossible to stop.

 _Keeping my secret only made me feel isolated in the end. And I had no other outlet to comfort myself but what he taught me._

As I finally fall silent her first words come in the form of a question.

 _You do know it's not your fault, don't you?_


	4. Secrets

**Thank you for your reviews and follows. Took me a while to write this. Real life got in the way but things are more quiet now. Hope you don't hate me for the way it's going.**

 _You do know it's not your fault, don't you?_

I nod but I also know I don't really believe it. And I'm sure she'll change her mind as soon as she knows all of it.

 _In a few years the safe haven I found with him turned into a cage without walls. He had me trapped between fear, embarrassement, loyalty and guilt. I saw no way out, so I kept going back to him._

I risk a quick look at sergeant Benson, feeling ashamed still for not staying away from him and fearing her impatience for not having stopped it. But her eyes remain the same, compassionate, understanding and supportive. It gives me the strength to continue.

 _Soon watching me touch myself was no longer enough. He started encouraging me. Giving me instructions. I had to lay on my stomach, put my hands between my legs and rock and rub on them. He'd put his hand in his pants, rubbing himself pretty much like I did myself. And I felt bolstered by that. He was an adult, he wouldn't do anything that wasn't allowed. He kept telling me 'good girl' and praising me. How could I resist that?_

 _Later on he'd take my clothes off. Stroking my buttocks as I was doing what he told me. He'd penetrate me anally with his finger. God, I really liked that. When he didn't I'd stick my backside in the air, silently begging him to do it again..._

It's then I completely break down. Sobs break through and wreck my body so hard I can't get air into my lungs. I am wheezing, struggling to breathe and Sergeant Benson moves for the first time since I started talking. She kneels on the floor in front of me, gently holding my hands in her own.

 _It's ok, Sophia, you're ok. You're here, you're safe. I'm with you. Just breathe. That's it. Take a breath, and let it go. Take a breath and let it go._

Her voice seems to be the only thing keeping me in the present. I try to focus on it completely and follow her instructions. Breath after shuddering breath she slowly manages to calm me down. I'm still crying and shaking but I can breathe again.

 _That's it. Just breathe. You're ok. It's not your fault. It was never your fault._

I'm exhausted but I can't stop talking now. She needs to hear the rest of it and she'll see that it was. Tears still running down my face I continue with my story.

 _One day I just didn't want to do it anymore and he took over. He rubbed me with his fingers. I didn't like it but he just kept going and going untill my body reacted. It was the first time I felt betrayed. And dirty. His hands were so rough and I ended up all red and sore. When he saw that he threatened me not to tell._

 _I somehow convinced him I wouldn't. And I didn't tell anyone. I didn't say a thing. But I thought myself so smart. I figured if I showed I wouldn't have to say anything. So that night, when I was in bed, I called my mom and I showed where it hurt. I was so sure she'd know what to do. She'd somehow stop it. But she just got mad. 'That's what you get for always touching yourself'. That's what she said before walking out of the room. As the door closed I cried so hard. All I could think was that it never hurt when I touched myself._

 _I'm so sorry. You were so smart to show her. It was so brave and you didn't break your promise. But she was so very, very wrong._

Her acknowledgement only reminds me of the disappointment, the utter betrayal by the one person I thought was going to take care of me. How I was only 6 or 7 years old when I learned I couldn't rely on anyone but me. But that's not the worst part. I just know she'll hate me when she knows the rest of it. But I can't keep it in any longer. The secret I've never shared with anyone.

 _I didn't only do it with him. I showed my best friend. When we were 11 or 12 years old we had a sleepover and she wondered what I was doing under the covers. I showed her. I told her what to do. And she did it too. God, how could I do that to her? She was my best friend?_

I fall silent then, curling up into myself even further, hiding my face. I can't look at her any longer. I can't face the disappointment and disgust I expect. I was no better than him. Even worse. I passed it on even though I knew how bad it was.


	5. Realization

**Thank you all for your reviews. The story is taking me to places I never imagined when I started it. Sometimes it just seems to close all the doors and it takes me a while to find an open window to get out of the corner I'm backed into.**

I'm so ashamed all I want is to disappear. Turn so small I can slide between the pillows of the couch. But ofcourse I can't. Please don't hate me. Please don't hate me now. I can't face you but please don't go away.

I'm so stuck in my own pleas it takes me a while to realize she's trying to get my attention. She gently holds my wrists as I hide my face in my hands. She doesn't try to pull them away, just staying close to me.

 _Sophia, Sophia, take a look at me. Come on now. You're OK. I'm here and you're OK. I'm here. You're not a bad person. Really, you're not._

How can she say that? Did she not hear what I just said? Did she not understand? Didn't I just tell her what I did? How can she say I'm not bad? Please don't make me have to tell her again. I can't stand having spilled my biggest secret to not have her understand it.

 _Sophia, you're NOT an abuser. Really, you're not. Come on now. Look at me. You're OK. You did NOTHING wrong. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about._

Really? She seems convinced but I still can't believe her words. She keeps coaching me to look at her though and I slowly move my hands lower. In the end I can't stay away from her gentleness and caring and I raise my eyes to see her face. Her hands softly move to my hands that she keeps holding. How can she not hate me? It's her next question that makes clear she only needs more information.

 _Sophia, why did you show her?_

Why? Why? I don't know why. What does it matter? I did a terrible thing. Isn't that bad enough?

 _I don't know._

No, that's a knee jerk. Think carefully why you shared that knowledge with her. Did you want to hurt her?

 _Ofcourse not._

 _Did you want to control her? To get pleasure from forcing her actions?_

 _NO! Nothing like that._

I can't believe she's asking me this. Didn't she say I wasn't bad? All the thoughts running through my head confuse me. What does she want me to say?

 _If you weren't out to hurt her or control her, why did you tell her what to do?_

In my frustration I just blurt out an answer:

 _Because it felt good and I wanted her to feel good too. And I didn't want to be alone with my secret any longer. And maybe..._

 _Maybe what? Just tell me. It's allright._

 _I was hoping that she would be found out. That she'd spill the secret somehow and they'd start asking questions. And they'd find out about me and they'd stop it._

I can't believe I just said that. Was that all there was to it? Really?

 _You were just finding another way to ask for help. You did it to ask for help._

Is that all there was to it? I never looked at it that way. All I could ever see was how I was no better than uncle Matthew, passing on the abuse to someone else. My best friend no less. Guilt has kept me stuck in the belief I'm an abuser. The realization that I've turned myself inside out for all these years hurts like nothing else.

I can see the crushing effect my next whispered words have on her:

 _It's why I didn't trust myself with little children. Why I never wanted any of my own._


	6. Aftermath

**Brightsparx, thank you for your thoughtfull words. I look forward to them every time.**

 **Anon, thanks for enouraging me to keep posting.**

Suddenly I'm so tired. There's still so much to say but for now I'm all talked out. A bone deep exhaustion makes me just want to close my eyes and go to sleep. This study room is hardly the place for that but the subway ride home seems too much at the moment. She also seems to have heard enough as she moves to get my coat and hands it to me.

 _Come on, I'll give you a lift home._

I can't help but be grateful for her offering me a ride but part of me feels censored. It's like I've said too much and she can't deal with me and my problems anymore. I'm in a daze as I put on my coat and grab my bag. She holds the door open and I follow her outside to her car and give her my adress.

The streets pass by unseen as we move through the city. I pretend to look out the side window as everything blurs together. I feel her eyes on me a few times, but I ignore it. I'm overwhelmed with feelings. Relief at letting my story out, fear for her reaction as everything must be sinking in, rejection at her stopping the conversation and the pure exhaustion of all the emotions that have come out.

What's going to happen now? My story is out there. At least with her. I can't believe I said all that. I never planned to sat this much. And it obviously is too much. She did break off the conversation. She must hate me so much. Once everything sinks in she'll forget the words she spoke before. I'm afraid to look at her and see the disappointment and disgust on her face. She won't be able to hide it much longer I'm sure.

The tension is rising and I can't wait to be home and get out of this car. I'm near panic when we finally stop and I recognize my appartment building. She puts a hand on mine as I try to unbuckle the seat belt. Please just let me go. Let me escape inside where I can hide from the world.

 _Sophia, I meant what I said before. You're not a bad person. Really, you're not. You did nothing wrong. You have nothing to be ashamed of. It was NOT your fault._

Once more I am drawn to her eyes and I can see she believes what she's saying. I'm still doubting her though and I don't think that will change any time soon.

 _Just take it easy for a while. I'll call you in a few days, is that allright?_

She wants to call me. I'm overwhelmed with relief and stammer out a thank you before rushing upstairs. I don't want to wait for the elevator but the staircase looms before me like a mountain. Walking up four stories is just too much at the moment. Please, please let the elevator be empty.

It is and I'm grateful not to meet any of my neighbours in the hallway. I just don't feel sociable right now and I'm done explaining. All I can do after I close the door is to fall down on the couch. I haven't even taken off my coat and shoes as the last of my energy seeps out of me. I don't care about anything at the moment. Let the world pass me by.


End file.
